


Caged Bird

by NekoReecesPieces



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Overwatch (Video Game), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: "Tim Drake and Donuts" needs to be a tag on here, Crossover, Donuts, Dysfunctional Family, First Meetings, Gen, Hurt Tim Drake, Injury, Light Angst, Minor Injuries, Tim Drake Needs Help, Tim Drake Needs a Break, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake-centric, Workaholic Tim Drake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27621806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoReecesPieces/pseuds/NekoReecesPieces
Summary: A strange and injured boy in an interrogation room brings up old memories and feelings for Jesse McCree, not wanting him to go down the same path. Little does he know, this little birdie has a lot more up his red sleeves than what Jesse might think. How did this boy get there, how will he get home, and get the help that he needs?
Relationships: Jesse McCree & Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes & Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Comments: 16
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First two chapters originally written between 2016-2017, picked back up and continued in 2020/2021

A teenage boy sat alone in an interrogation room. Bruises and cuts littered his body, yet he seemed none the worse for wear. It seemed like this was normal for him, like it happened often.  
Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison didn't know if this was a good thing or not. It probably wasn't. The boy was silent, thinking. Planning.  
Jesse McCree walked up behind Reyes and Morrison, a plate in his hand. He looked through the two-way and at the boy. "Blackwatch all over again, huh?" he said.  
"I wouldn't think so." Morrison replied. "This kid's crafty, and smart too. Hasn't said a word since we picked him up. Be careful around him."  
"Yeah, I got it." McCree left the room and entered the interrogation room. The boy looked at him and the plate. More specifically, what was on the plate.  
"Hey." McCree greeted him as he walked to the other side of the side, opposite to the boy. He got a small "Hey." from the teen in reply. McCree set the plate in the middle of the table in between him and the boy.   
Donuts.  
McCree wasn't exactly sure why he brought the kid donuts, but he thought they would help a small bit. The kid's eyes widened, and McCree was sure he heard a small growl coming from the kid's stomach. McCree nearly gave a small chuckle but held back. "You can have one if you want." McCree told the boy, gesturing to the plate in front of him. "Or three, I don't care."   
The boy gave McCree a considering look the slowly picked a donut off the plate. Pink strawberry frosting with sprinkles, McCree saw the boy eyeing that donut since he walked in. Well, that one and the chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles. The kid had taste.  
The boy slowly brought the donut to his face and gave a small sniff, eyes leaving McCree for only a second. "It's ok." McCree told him. "Go ahead." The kid gave a small, thinking look, looked at McCree, then at the donut, then took a small, tasting bite. His eyes widened as he started to scarf the rest of the treat down. "Whoa there!" McCree said as he took a few napkins out of his pocket. "Don't choke!" The boy stopped mid-chew, his cheeks bulging, an almost sheepish look on his face. He looked at the piece of donut left in his hand then back at McCree. He then shrugged with a cheeky smile and stuffed the rest of the donut into his face. McCree couldn't help but laugh as he handed the teen a napkin. The teen swallowed and panted, grabbing the napkin.  
"Thanks." he said as he wiped his crumby and frosting streaked face. He looked back at the plate. "Can I have one more?" he shyly asked.  
"You can have the whole plate if you wanna." McCree answered. "Just eat more slowly." McCree looked at the plate himself. He then grabbed a plain glazed donut. "I think I'll have just this one." The kid shrugged then grabbed the plate and put it closer to him. He then grabbed the frosted chocolate donut and started to eat it, this time taking smaller bites, which McCree was thankful for.  
As he took a bite out of his donut McCree took a moment to look at the boy in front of him. He gave a chuckle as the boy pushed raven black hair out of his eyes but lamented when he got frosting in them. The boy's hair was parted in the middle and was in a shaggy almost business-type cut. Dark bags under his blue eyes stood out on his pale skin, suggesting the boy hadn't rested in a while and hasn't been outside in the sun very often. He was wearing a red hoodie and black jeans, both of which were torn and showing cuts, bruises, and scars. McCree saw a bruise starting to form near the boy's cheek. "Must'a been in a fight." McCree mused to himself. The boy looked up from devouring what was left of the donut plate.  
"Hm?" he made an inquiring noise to McCree.   
"How old are ya, kid?" McCree asked him.   
The boy swallowed. "I'm seventeen, sir." he answered politely. McCree's eyes widened slightly.   
"When I was seventeen I got in a lot of trouble." The cowboy began. "What kinda trouble are you in, kid?" The teen swallowed and pushed back the plate.   
"The kind of trouble I can handle."  
"What's your name, kid?" McCree asked.  
"You first." the kid retorted.  
"Jesse" McCree replied.  
"Jesse?" The teen gave a small smile. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Jesse. I'm Timothy."


	2. Chapter 2

"Timothy, huh?" McCree and the boy never broke eye contact. In fact, it was like the boy was searching him. Studying him.  
McCree sat back a bit in his chair. "Can I call you 'Timmy'?" The teen narrowed his eyes.  
"It's Tim." He stated.  
"Alright, Tim." McCree leaned forward and clasped his hands together on the table. "What are ya doin' out here? Ya've obviously been in a fight, so why aren't ya home?" Tim looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked down at the empty plate.  
".....my stomach hurts." he murmured.  
"How bad?" McCree asked. Either the kid was lying to avoid the question, or McCree needed to get him to Mercy, stat.  
"Can I have a water?" Tim asked, still not looking up. McCree got up and left the room, noting how Tim looked to watch him leave.  
McCree entered the room next to the interrogation room, where Reyes and Morrison were watching. Reyes handed him an unopened water bottle.   
"He's hiding something." he said. "Could be protecting someone, or himself. Maybe even both."   
McCree nodded to them and went back to Tim.  
"Here." he said as he handed the bottle to Tim. Tim looked at the label for a second and cracked the top open. He then proceeded to chug half the water before he stopped and wiped his face with the back of his hand.  
"Thanks." he said to McCree, who gave a small grunt in return.  
McCree went back to his seat, sat down, and put the back of his hand on Tim's forehead. Tim pulled back, a bewildered look on his face.  
"What are you doing?!" he almost shouted at McCree.   
"You were in a fight, yer stomach hurts, and yer warm." McCree told him. Tim shrugged it off.  
"And?" he said, as if it were completely normal. McCree didn't like that.  
"How many fights have you been in, kid?"  
Tim merely shrugged and looked away nonchalantly. "Not enough." he responded softly, almost like a mumbled whisper.  
McCree narrowed his eyes at him. Something definitely must have happened to the boy to have him respond like that. McCree turned around in his chair to look at the two-way. He could only guess what was going on in Reyes's and Morrison's heads. He knew for sure that all three of them would agree that Timothy was keeping his cards close to his chest, playing it safe, if not vaguely.  
McCree nodded in the two-way's direction and turned back to Tim, who was rubbing the back of his neck. McCree guessed him to be planning his next move or next answer, as if preparing himself for anything that might happen next. McCree didn't want to scare him. "Look, kid," McCree started. Tim looked up slightly at him. McCree took that as a sign to continue. He leaned forward and shifted in his chair. "No one here is gonna hurt a. You can trust us. Ya don't have to worry or be scared."  
Tim looked back down and made a small noise. He then looked back up fully at McCree, a smirk on his face. "I'm not scared. Not worried either. Thanks for the concern though."  
McCree leaned back in his chair, feeling slightly played. This kid was smart, and probably has skills to boot.  
Tim looked around the room, then set his gaze on the two-way. "So, Mr. Jesse," he said. "How long am I going to be in here and your fellow agents or co-workers just watch?" He looked at the two-way for a few seconds more then back at McCree. He looked down then back again at McCree. "Um, you wouldn't happen to have any spare bandages or medical supplies, would ya?" Tim brushed some hair away from his face. "I sort of need them."  
McCree got up and went toward the door. "I'll take ya to our medic. You ain't leaving my sight though."  
"Fair enough." Tim responded and got up slowly from his chair, wincing a small bit in pain.  
"Here, let me help ya." McCree moved from the door to help, but Tim held a hand up to stop him.  
"I got it." he said as he used the table to stabilize himself. He gave McCree a sly look. "Believe me when I say I've been through worse."  
McCree looked over to where Morrison and Reyes were watching, almost in asking for help on what to do with the teen. He went over to Tim and and put his arm under Tim to help him. "I said I got this." Tim stated, almost a bit grumpily. McCree made a scoffing noise.  
"And?" he retorted. "Easier to keep an eye on ya this way. Mercy's probably waiting for us." Timothy wrinkled his nose in thought.   
"Mercy?" he asked questionably.   
"Let's just get ya to Medbay, ok?" McCree said as he helped Tim to the door.   
"Alright, alright." Tim said in agreement as he let McCree basically lead him down the hall to what hopefully was the Medbay.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long awaited third chapter finally here! Sorry it took longer than expected to post it but I appreciated all the support in the meantime : )

The walk to Medbay was a relatively quiet one, both males seemingly lost in thought. As McCree helped Tim down the corridor he felt the boy had a good amount of strength to him. The boy may have been on the skinnier side, yet he had firm muscle hiding under his thick hoodie. McCree wondered where Morrison and Reyes were and what they were doing. No doubt they were probably discussing the boy and what was going on.  
As they were walking McCree noticed Tim was walking with a small limp. "Do you need more help, Partner?" he asked. Tim looked at him but continued on.   
"I'm fine." he said, as if trying to brush his injuries off. "Just did my foot funny in the fight." he explained. McCree gave a small hum in acknowledgement and led Timothy to a doorway connected to the wall.  
"Ah, McCree!" An accented voice greeted them. "I see you've brought me a new patient."  
"McCree?" Timothy inquired as he limped into the room. McCree shrugged as he helped him to the awaiting doctor.  
"Timothy, this is Doctor Ziegler, our resident Medic."  
"Nice to meet you, ma'am." Tim said politely and put his hand out to shake her hand. Mercy smiled, shook his hand, and led him gently to an examination bed.   
"Please sit down. You must have seen a lot of commotion."  
Tim gave her a polite smile. "Not as much as usual."  
Mercy seemed taken aback at his answer while McCree gave a small huff. He was getting annoyed at the boy's secrecy and vagueness.   
"Before we begin, Timothy," the doctor said after a moment. "Is there anything I need to know? Any allergies, conditions?"  
Tim thought for a moment, glancing down with a thinking look on his face. "I'm not allergic to anything, but..." he rubbed his neck, almost as if he were embarrassed.   
"Yes?" Mercy inquired, wanting him to go on. Tim looked up, a sheepish look on his face.  
"I'm...I'm actually missing a spleen."  
"Your spleen!"   
"How'd ya lose your SPLEEN?!"  
McCree and Mercy were shocked at Tim's reveal.   
"Yer joking. How can a kid like ya lose his spleen of all things?" McCree really wanted to know.   
Tim bashfully looked at them. "Let's just say it involved assassins, ninjas, and spiders." Tim grasped the hem of his hoodie. "It sounds crazy even when I say it. But here's the scar." He held part of the hoodie up, and amongst other scars, cuts, and bruises was the scar of the operation where Tim's spleen was removed. Tim pulled the hoodie back down and coughed nervously into his fist. "I'm...not exactly proud about this."  
Mercy and McCree stood dumbfounded for a moment until the doctor finally spoke up. "And I take it that you are taking antibiotics for this, am I correct?" Tim couldn't bring himself to look at her or McCree in the face.   
"When I remember to." he mumbled in answer.  
"And what is that," McCree questioned, "supposedta mean?" McCree looked him over. "Son, yer skinnier than a twig. Ain't they feedin' ya back at home?"  
Tim looked slightly up at him. "I'm, for a lack of better terms, am a workaholic. I, uh, don't always exactly remember when to eat." He rubbed the back of his head again. "I sometimes don't eat at all. It drives my family nuts."  
"Ya think?!" McCree was about ready to explode. "Ya go all day without eatin' and that's normal to ya?!"   
"Jesse." Mercy patted McCree's arm in an attempt to calm him down. She then went over to a shelf and took a bottle down. She went back to Tim and handed the bottle to him. "These are the antibiotics you are supposed to take, yes?" she asked. Tim looked at the label and nodded.   
"Yes ma'am." He answered softly.  
"Now ya better take 'em, and take 'em with food, ya hear me?" McCree said roughly. Tim nodded, still not looking up.  
Mercy put her hand softly on Tim's shoulder and spoke gently to him. "Now, let me tend to your injuries. What hurts the most?" McCree had his arms crossed and was looing hard at Timothy, who still didn't look up.   
"Prob...probably my limp." Timothy said quietly. "There's nothing really serious anyway. Just some bruises here and there. And a few cuts.."  
"An' your black eye." McCree interjected. Tim glanced over at him. Mercy tilted Tim's head up and examined the area around his left eye. She gave a small hum of acknowledgement.   
"Tell me." She said. "Any dizziness, headache, changes in vision?"   
Tim shook his head. "No ma'am. There's only a slight pain where I got hit in the back of my head, and my brother hits harder when we roughhouse, so it's nothing too bad."   
Mercy hummed again. "And I take it they brought you straight to interrogation after they found you?" Tim nodded again. "I'll go get supplies to clean your wound, bandages, and ice packs." Mercy took a few steps away from Timothy and looked at McCree. "Please, watch him." She said a bit teasingly.   
McCree and Timothy watched Mercy go to get her supplies for a few seconds. "So," McCree started. "You have a brother?"  
Tim snorted. "Yeah. Three of 'em."  
"Huh." McCree said acknowledgingly, wanting Tim to go on.  
"Well, technically they're my adopted brothers. Family's a bit, well, let's say dysfunctional to say the least." Tim looked back up at McCree after speaking. "What about you?"  
McCree gave a small thinking snort. "Technically I'm adopted too. And, Son," McCree looked at Tim. "What family ain't dysfunctional?"  
Tim smiled. "Yeah..."  
Mercy made her way back over, supplies in her hand. She immediately began cleaning the area around Tim's eye as soon as she set her supplies down. After, she handed Tim an ice pack.   
"Fifteen on, fifteen off?" He askes.   
'Yes." She replied. "Now, which foot has the limp?"  
"My right one," Tim replied. He took his sneaker and sock off and rolled his foot to show Mercy the range. "I'm pretty sure it's only slightly sprained, so nothing too bad." he explained to her, putting his ice pack lightly on his face. "It doesn't hurt too much if I don't put too much weight on it." Mercy gingerly examined the area around his ankle, keeping an eye on Tim's face for any sign of pain or discomfort.   
"I believe you to be right about the sprain." She said after a moment. "I'll lightly wrap it for now, and you can use a pair of our crutches as I am sure you won't want to rest immediately."   
"And we need to get real food in ya." McCree interjected, his arms crossed. "I'll take ya over to Mess when this is over, and I'll get Morrison and Reyes to get ya a room if they haven't already."  
Tim looked at them, a small thankful look on his face. "You guys don't have to do this. Really. I can take care of myself."  
"We are here to help." Mercy stated. "You are a young man clearly in of it. You are here for a reason, I am sure of it."  
"But, why? Aren't I just some kid to you guys? Why take me in? Why help?" Tim gave a thinly-veiled suspicious look at them. McCree gave him a hard look back.  
"Because it's what we were founded on. At least, what we were originally founded on. And those of us who's left are trying to keep it alive." He looked away from Tim, memories of the past flooding his head.   
"Ang...Angie, finish patching him up. Please." He quickly cleared his throat and adjusted his posture. "I have to go talk to Reyes and Morrison. To...to make a report." He started to quickly walk toward the door, then stopped and turned slightly to Mercy. "You know how to reach me if you need to." He turned slightly more to look at Tim's direction. "Behave around her. She's the best that I know and won't take any crap you give to her." He turned back toward the door and walked out of the room, afraid of what might come out of his mouth next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry too much about McCree, he's just (amongst other things) mentally drafting up adoption papers. He just can't decide if he's going to be another dad or a big brother to Timmy.  
> Also, people really hadn't talked enough about Tim's spleen, or lack thereof. Poor boy. :'(


End file.
